Nie Jiuluo closed the photo album and carried the soup bowl to the half-open window.
The rain was pouring heavily, and in the center of the courtyard, a massive black shadow swayed in the rain—an osmanthus tree about three meters tall.
Nie Jiuluo felt concerned. Just days ago, Sister Lu had talked about collecting the autumn osmanthus flowers to make osmanthus sugar and preserves, but with this wind and rain, she worried the entire tree of blossoms might be ruined.
Her phone vibrated on the workbench, indicating a new message.
Nie Jiuluo heard it but didn’t rush to check, leisurely finishing her tremella soup before going to look.
It was a message set to self-destruct, surprisingly from “that side.”
Hadn’t everything been settled? Why were they contacting her again? Nie Jiuluo frowned, hesitating for several seconds before opening the message.
—Urgent, call needed.
Nie Jiuluo was startled, realizing she had never seen the word “urgent” in messages from “that side” before.
She replied with a simple “okay.”
This was their agreed-upon rule: no matter how urgent, direct contact wasn’t allowed without the other party’s consent.
Jiang Baichuan made the call, his tone grave as he got straight to the point: “Nie Er, Yan Tuo has escaped.”
The name “Yan Tuo” had become almost unfamiliar to Nie Jiuluo.
But she quickly recalled who he was, understood the implications of this news, and immediately realized what tremendous trouble his escape would cause her.
Anger surged in her chest—she wanted to reach through the phone and across the line to smash the other party’s head in.
Useless teammates, incompetent fools—working with such people was truly her misfortune.
“When did it happen? How did he escape?”
Jiang Baichuan explained the situation briefly.
For over two weeks, there had been no progress except keeping the prisoners confined, which had made everyone somewhat anxious.
A few days ago, there was a new development—a missing person notice for Yan Tuo appeared on unofficial channels in An’kai City, offering a reward. The “cleaning staff” remaining in Ban Ya were tempted to make contact, hoping to discover something new.
Jiang Baichuan blamed himself: “It’s my fault for not thinking it through. Ban Ya doesn’t have capable people right now. Da Tou and the others lack experience—they probably aroused suspicion during contact, and the other party followed them back to Ban Ya.”
People come in different levels, as does intelligence—there was no point in blaming anyone for this: if someone was slow-witted and dull, what could you do about it?
“Was it just Yan Tuo who escaped, or are they all gone?”
Jiang Baichuan gave a bitter laugh: “Once they found their way to us, they weren’t going to save just one, were they?”
“Then what? Any casualties or losses?”
Jiang Baichuan hesitated: “The pig farm was burned down. It happened at midnight, during feeding time. Sister Hua was bringing food to Sun Zhou and ran into them—she suffered severe burns. She hasn’t passed yet, but… the outlook isn’t good.”
The pig farm was Ban Ya’s secret prison, also called the “Xiao’s Nest,” built underground with a pig farm above ground, right next to the slaughterhouse. This setup had two advantages: first, the pig pens were filthy, so ordinary people avoided the area; second, any unusual sounds could be attributed to pig slaughter, helping maintain secrecy.
As for “feeding time,” that was when the Di Xiao ate: twice a day, at noon and midnight.
“The others are fine—most were sleeping, living scattered and far from the pig farm, so they avoided trouble. Except for Ma Hanzi, who saw cars entering the village and went to question them. They grabbed his head and knocked him out—mild concussion.”
Nie Jiuluo had been listening silently until now: “His brain wasn’t good to begin with.”
Jiang Baichuan sighed: “Yes, and this knock made him even more foolish… Sister Hua is being cared for by her distant relatives now. I’ve ordered our people, especially those Yan Tuo has seen, to ‘disappear’ for at least half a year. This way, even if they investigate Ban Ya, the trail will end there.”
Nie Jiuluo remarked: “Of course, it’s easy for you all to disappear.”
Sister Hua, and Da Tou—none were real names, nor were they local to Ban Ya. In a sea of millions, they could vanish simply by not showing their faces.
Jiang Baichuan asked awkwardly: “Nie Er, do you think… should you go into hiding?”
Nie Jiuluo countered: “How can I hide? I’m a normal person with a real name and business. Where could I hide?”
Jiang Baichuan hurried to say: “Don’t worry about that, we can arrange everything.”
“Even if you perfectly arrange my hiding, for how long? Should I never show my face again?”
After a long silence, Jiang Baichuan suggested: “Or I could send some people to secretly protect you?”
Nie Jiuluo snorted contemptuously—she truly didn’t believe anyone Jiang Baichuan sent could protect her. If something happened, who would end up protecting who was unclear?
After repeatedly being rebuffed, Jiang Baichuan said helplessly: “You really shouldn’t have let him know your real identity back then.”
Now it was her fault?
The angrier Nie Jiuluo became, the gentler her tone: “As I said, I’m a normal person with a normal name—what’s there to hide? Besides, how could I have known that after handing him over to you, he’d fly away?”
Jiang Baichuan felt ashamed, stammering: “Then… what are your thoughts? Yan Tuo suffered quite a bit this time. It seems he’s developed a hatred for you.”
Nie Jiuluo laughed coldly: “Of course he has. Did you expect him to fall in love with me after all this?”
On the other end, Jiang Baichuan fell silent again.
Outside, the rain grew heavier, the raindrops near the window being blown diagonally by the wind, gleaming in the light.
Things had already come to this point—there was no use in continuing to vent her anger at Jiang Baichuan. Nie Jiuluo said: “Let me think about it. I’ll contact you later.”
After hanging up, she stood by the window for a while, her mind tangled in knots, unable to sort through her thoughts.
Having nothing else to do, she decided to take the empty bowl and plate down to Sister Lu.
The kitchen was on the east side of the courtyard house. Being spacious, it retained the old-style cooking area. Sister Lu, coming from the countryside and having grown up tending fires and cleaning stoves, preferred the traditional kitchen with its large iron wok and wooden lid requiring regular feeding of firewood over the modern kitchen with its full set of appliances next door. She often told Nie Jiuluo: that rice steamed in an iron wok was more fragrant, producing crispy rice crust; corn roasted in the fire pit tasted a hundred times better than what came from an oven.